Hey Gene, this is Henry Maclean
And I finished my beautiful flying machine
And I'm ringing to say that I'm leaving and maybe
You'd like to fly with me and hide with me, baby

Isn't it strange how little we changed
Isn't it sad we're insane
Playing the games that we know end in tears
The games we've been playing for thousands and thousands

Point me to this cosmic flight
And throw away the plastic coloured eye
I'd like to use the static miles that we fly
This is my last summarize

Point me at the sky and let it fly

And if you survive till two thousand and five
I hope you're exceedingly thin
For if you are stout you will have to breath out
While the people around you breathe in, breathe in
People blaspheme all I say
To something that I hate to say
Stooping down to eat the air
Breathe careful that you might die, my friend

All we've got to say to you is goodbye